Where is my Beloved?
by La Belle Dame avec Merci
Summary: Erik and Christine consummate their marriage by the shores of the underground lake. Everything they do is watched and noted by an individual who has crept stealthily into the dark realm. What repercussions will it have for him? For them? Contains sex scenes. I do not own "The Phantom of the Opera" or any of the characters.
1. Chapter 1

Christine huddled up just outside the lair. She was sitting ridiculously in the padded chair from her bedroom. For some reason she had carried it out here.

She gazed through the portcullis. The boat rocked gently on the lake's waters... oh, that cool breeze...

She was wearing only her chemise. She felt small and vulnerable.

Yes, she loved Erik. She did not know how she had left him in the first place.

He was her life.

A silent tear flowed.

She gazed into the blackness.

And then she heard him.

"Oh, Christine."

She knew it was her husband.

Erik's footfalls were delicate. He was like a soft-padded cat. She had known the sound of his footsteps since childhood.

So many times she had waited for them. And felt a surge of joy when she had heard.

Then why had she left him? Oh, she had come back. But she could not get over how much she had hurt him.

Christine tried to control her tears.

Erik placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Now, there is no need to cry, my darling," he said. "This is our wedding night."

Christine turned her slightly wet face towards him. He was holding a lamp.

Oh, the gentleman. He had let her snuggle up in her bed and quietly gone to his. He had not claimed his right. Not when she was scared and reticent.

He would not hurt her like that.

He was wearing a long black night robe. Under that was just his chilly nightshirt. With his skull-like features, grotesque, deep-set reptilian eyes and horrible complexion... and that pathetic, hurt look... he was a horrendous sight.

Christine got to the point.

"I don't know how to do this."

Her husband smiled just a little bit.

She knew a few things about the act. It would hurt. And she would have to show herself naked. That would be absolutely mortifying.

"Christine, don't be frightened."

Christine turned her head. She was alone with her thoughts for a moment. She hunched up in her chair.

She still could not comprehend how she had ripped poor Erik's heart right out.

She had no doubt confirmed, to him, his sorry belief that he was a living corpse unworthy of love.

She could not believe her cruelty. She could still see the claw marks all over his face. How could she have caused that? Left the man who had been her everything since she was a child.

Yes. She loved Erik. She had never doubted that. Loved him all-consumingly since she was ten years old. But when she became a woman and he yearned for intimate relations with her, that took a while to get used to.

She had gone away with a young lover. Raoul. A friend from even earlier in her life, who had returned to claim her now she was a beautiful diva.

And who was responsible for her success? Erik.

She had left her guide and guardian.

All the tenderness and intimacy they had shared through words, for so many years. It had been disregarded.

Erik had made it clear he loved her and wanted to marry her. In a flood of tears he had let her go. But somehow, Christine had turned back.

Now she gazed up at the poor man. She loved him, and she would go ahead with this. Even though in this moment she felt so much doubt.

"Oh, Erik. I will consummate our marriage. I'm so sorry about all that has happened. I will embrace you in my arms as your wife."

"You will?"

Christine stood up. He turned her to face him.

Raoul saw him turn Christine around. He breathed slowly in the dank air.

Something had drawn him here.

Raoul was on the other side of the portcullis. He was concealed in shadow, but could see what was happening in the light of Erik's lantern.

Erik removed his back cashmere night robe. He spread it on the ground. Then he laid her down gently on it.

Why wasn't he taking her to bed? Why did his night robe have to be the only barrier between Christine and that cold earth?

Raoul guessed why. Because Erik was grabbing the moment. Any minute later and the capricious Christine might change her mind.

And Erik was not expecting to live long. He obviously thought it was now or never. A middle-aged man, he had long abused his body. How many would live in this dark realm?

So, he had built this home under the Paris Opera House to hide from the world. Because he was deformed and ugly.

Raoul did not feel sorry for him. He only felt irritation. The man had come to Christine simply as a voice for years, and then in a mask, because of his hideous corpse-like features. She had only recently found out about his ugliness.

The liar.

Erik could go back to being a professional freak for all Raoul cared.

Why was he pretending to be a great singing teacher? So, he was responsible for Christine's beautiful voice. She had once been a chorus girl. A lonely orphan, she had come to work at the Paris Opera House years ago. She had sought comfort from Erik.

Raoul was sure her voice was due to some legitimate teacher she was not telling him about. So this man had been giving her free lessons? All because he loved her? It was a pathetic tale. At any rate he had made her his life. In the absence of anything else being thus.

She had been going down to the cellars to talk to him. She had already spent time in his strange underground home.

Once, Raoul had been obsessed with her. He would have done anything for the girl. Crossed any ocean.

But the prize had been claimed. Now that she had taken vows before God with another man, the game was over. Now he just felt numb, horrified, and furious. He felt angry with Christine. And angry with Erik.

This unfortunate mason's son from Normandy. The victim of a hideous birth defect. Christine had gone ahead and married him despite his ugliness. And Raoul felt like squeezing him in two for it.

No wonder Erik felt he was going to die. He was skinny and undernourished, depressed from all these years living in the bowels of the earth. And he smelt like death.

Raoul hoped Erik would, indeed, die soon. But at any rate, Raoul wanted to see if they consummated the marriage. And if they did, he wanted to watch.

He was disgusted by the thought of Erik's penis. It was probably skinny, yellow and icy cold, like the rest of him! Why had Christine run back to this monster anyway? Raoul thought it was a sense of duty. He thought she felt she must care for the odiferous, yellow, ugly, prematurely aged creature.

Aw, he was like a second daddy to her, since her own had died. Well now her dear second daddy-poo had become her husband, she would have to take the fall.

Erik tenderly laid Christine down. He could hardly wait. But running through him was the most terrifying, hysterical fear.

He had never done this before. He knew what to do theoretically. He prayed he would please his wife. He prayed he would not look like a fool.

And he was fifty-three. His poor emaciated hands began to lift the chemise of his beautiful young bride. Oh, he hoped he would do this properly.

Christine clenched her teeth as her chemise was pulled up to her neck. She saw her husband look at her body. It was the most pleased she had ever seen him.

He pulled down her pants. She squirmed. Then he began to run his fingers over her torso. He smiled joyfully, feeling her breasts and putting his hand between her legs like a child let loose in a sweetshop.

He laughed joyfully.

"Oh Christine... my Christine... you are beautiful..."

"I am still scared," Christine wept.

He kissed her tenderly. "Don't be frightened, my angel. Now, my darling, just hold your legs apart. I will not... perform the act yet."

She was sobbing. He smoothed her hair. "It's all right. I want you to learn to enjoy yourself."

"But should we be doing this?" she asked.

"It's what a husband and wife do."

Erik knew she utterly trusted him.

He smiled. Christine was his and his alone.

Now, he had to make sure he did not hurt her. Make sure she would want to do this. Get her loose. Get her slack. Get her wet.

Erik removed his nightshirt. He was looking forward to skin-on-skin contact. But he did not want to frighten her. He fondled his erection. He would not show it yet. He would start by pleasing her.

Erik reached out, and cautiously laid his hand against her secret place. He only hoped he would get this right.

Christine flinched. One of his fingers went right into her secret place. And another found a spot high up. Oh, it was so sensitive. Despite his gentleness, she felt like she was being scraped raw. Absolutely raw.

The feeling was of being tickled in a place that was terribly ticklish... with him never stopping. She was brave. She let it wash over her. She was determined not to bow out.

"No," she whispered eventually. "I can't bear this, Erik. I can't do it."

"You'll be all right. Embrace the feeling. Enjoy it."

Christine gritted her teeth. This agonizing torture she could not stand much longer.

Then, the feeling changed. It alarmed her.

How could this have been so agonizing one moment, and now so good? It felt like she had been unbearably itchy, for a long time. And the spot was at last being scratched.

It felt so good. Her body moved with a life of its own.

Christine was shocked when her hips thrust towards him. Like she was some base slut. But it felt so heavenly that she didn't care.

He found another spot. One which she had never touched herself. Once again, she felt uncomfortable. Christine twisted her head away, scrunching her eyes tight shut. But then soon, it became bliss.

He was reaching into the very core of her womanhood. Seeking out those raw and sensitive spots which could not bear to be touched. But longed to be touched all the same.

That kindly hand was giving her all this pleasure. That hand became the very centre of her existence. She could not see Erik from where she was. But she loved him all the more, because of what he was doing for her.

He put his finger in deeper. He found more spots that had not been touched. "No!" she whispered.

He was so deep now. Oh, this time she couldn't stand it. It was so horribly painful... no she couldn't, she couldn't...

She discovered the only way she could was by clenching her muscles and thrusting forth her hips. Her eyes were screwed up, her teeth bared.

Then, as she broke out in a sweat, her hip muscles spasmed. It brought blissful relief. Her face was red hot.

She gasped.

"I'm going to disgrace myself," she whimpered.

"It's all right," he said softly. "If you do it doesn't matter."

The thought of doing so held her back. Then he caught her unawares. She could not move. He was pinning her firmly down, blocking her from doing anything but embracing him.

And her whole body shook with a totally heavenly convulsion, which had her rising into that hand.

She was wet. Fluid was seeping everywhere. And she didn't care.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he cooed.

Raoul was watching. Erik was leaning over Christine like a bird of prey. While pleasuring her with his hand Erik readied his organ.

Erik looked at her, calculating his moment. A delirious Christine was straddling his arm, ecstatic, her young hips continuing to rise.

Raoul saw Erik look up and see him.

Christine was still spasming beneath Erik, her pink thighs clutching desperately. And Raoul caught the expression in Erik's eyes.

It was not a look of alarm. It was not a look of rage.

It was a look of triumph.

Total and utter triumph.

As his fragile child-bride thrashed beneath him, her thighs slick and wet, adoration in her glazed eyes...

Raoul wanted to vomit. Erik's jeering yellow eyes flashed at him in all their reptilian spite. Mine, they were saying. She's mine.

Raoul gasped.

Then Erik chose his moment.

Christine bleated.

"I'm going to faint."

"No," said Erik soothingly.

His whopping erection was guided to just in front of her entrance, and he carefully pulled back her folds. She panted. Erik hovered for a moment, taking care to position it right.

For one more moment he eyed the helpless, writhing woman.

Then, he rammed it in.

Christine's legs wrapped around him with alacrity.

They rocked together with an alarming rhythm.

She shook with the energy of a firecracker, convulsing and spasming.

Erik's eyes were glazed with bliss. _"Ooooh... Ahhhh... Ahhhh... Oooh!"_ he moaned.

His hips worked overtime. His seed was pumped into Christine, as he released all the energy that had built up over all these years, as he had looked desperately for a girl who loved him.

Her blood, and his seed, seeped out from between their thighs. It soaked his fine cashmere robe.

He thrashed madly, totally giving in to his energy, as she moved up to embrace him.

" _Oh, Erik... Oh, Erik! Mmmm..."_

Christine lovingly stroked his head as he laid on top of her, utterly beat. Her hand moved lower to caress his shoulders. Raoul stole a look at her face. She was totally and utterly in love.

Erik's horrible body was slumped over her. Raoul could see Christine's pink, flushed skin, dripping with perspiration. Her youth, health and ecstasy made her glow.

Erik snuggled against his wife's shoulder as she cradled his head. He nuzzled against her. Then, suddenly, he raised himself on his forearms.

"Yes!" he screamed, throwing his head back joyfully. He sat up. His laughter bounced off the walls, reverberating over the lake. "I feel as if I could live forever!"

Christine squealed. She threw her arms around him.

They laughed, and hugged wildly.

"Oh, Erik, darling..."

"I could live forever!"

They both laughed resoundingly. They collapsed down, cuddling each other.

Well, that answered Raoul's unspoken question.

Raoul saw now that Erik's illness had been imaginary. Now he had gotten back the will to live there was no stopping him.

Christine and Erik were in a sitting position now. They were laughing, and snuggling up to each other. And Raoul could only see Erik's back, which annoyed him. If only he could see Christine's naked body full-on. A sight he had been denied.

Christine was tracing her fingernails lovingly down Erik's spine. He sighed appreciatively.

"Oh my dearest... is there anything I can do?" she murmured. "You have been so good and kind to me. How can I spoil you?"

Raoul did not want to see what unfolded next. Christine kneeling at Erik's feet like a devoted acolyte, while he sat like a king in the chair. And her loving his appendage. Licking and sucking it, while that accursed creature moaned his pleasure.

Erik's orgasm shrieks bounded off the walls, amplified by those eerie acoustics. And it was at that moment that Raoul finally lost his footing.

Raoul cursed. His foot stamped madly on the ground. And then, the trap caught him. As Erik cried out in rapture Raoul gave a yelp of fear. There was a whooshing sound as he disappeared through the trapdoor. Then a splash as he hit an underground stream, many feet below.

Erik gazed at his sleeping wife. She was sated and happy.

It had been a bit hard to hear anything. Ah, yes, his wife had been pleasuring him. Bringing him to that delightful climax.

And Christine, God love her, had been way too busy focusing on his organ to notice any noise!

But he was sure, now, that something had happened to the boy. Erik decided it was time to do a job.

He got up and dressed quickly. It was about three in the morning. He had to check the tunnels, didn't he? He had to make sure no-one was coming to threaten he and his wife.

Erik let himself out of the portcullis. He then took his lantern and travelled a few levels down.

That silly boy. Raoul had followed them. Why had he, anyway? Why had he had to practice the art of voyeurism?

Erik knew there was no way Raoul would have been able to get in. But at any rate, it had given Erik a silent laugh when he had seen Raoul standing there.

Of course, it wasn't Erik's fault. Why should Raoul follow them anyway? He knew Christine wasn't his.

And Raoul knew the underground realms were dangerous. He should have known better than to tamper with them.

Erik had had to put a trap by the portcullis. People had tried to kill him recently. He didn't want Christine to get caught in the crossfire. If some intrepid soul was going to risk his life by barging in on a man and wife's privacy, what did he expect to get?

Erik went silently into the deeper realms. It was not long before he found Raoul.

The prissy nobleman bobbed in the water at Erik's feet. He had travelled along the tributary. His face was quite vacant. Quite dead.

Erik knew what he must do. He himself had been going to be buried here. In a few weeks, he had imagined. Well, now it would be another.

Erik carried the body to a suitable spot. As he smacked the earth over Raoul, he noticed the glint of a wedding ring which Raoul had bought for Christine. Raoul pathetically wore it.

As Erik completed the burial, he wondered what was going to happen.

Raoul had vanished.

He and Christine must leave, too.

What stories would be told in the hereafter? That Christine had run away with her husband? And a body was found in the cellars?

Erik chuckled.

He brushed dirt off himself. Then he headed back upstairs. He put the grimy shovel away, washed in his luxurious bathroom, and snuggled into bed next to his wife.

"Oh, poor Erik."

Erik could feel Christine massaging his back. He sighed contentedly.

"Oh, you must be so sore."

"Yes I am. I've been a builder for years. That has left me with a bad back."

Erik grinned to himself. All true. However, there was a particular reason why he had a bad back this morning.

It was because that little beggar had been a bit exhausting to bury.

Erik groaned his appreciation as Christine kneaded the very sore muscles of his lower back. They troubled him regularly. But today, they had been playing up a little more than usual...

"Oh, that feels so good."

"Nice?" She smiled indulgently. "Oh, you love that, don't you."

Erik grinned, and stretched lazily. This had always been one of his fantasies hadn't it? To have his loving wife, his dear Christine, knead his poor, knotted spine.

He let himself drift off. He wriggled with pleasure, feeling the drowsy sense of wellbeing overtake him. He buried his head in the pillow and nearly fell asleep.

"My darling husband." Christine fondly prodded him in the bottom. "You've got to look after yourself. I will make sure you will."

"I know, Christine," he smiled.

"I will make you eat proper food..."

"Yes, I know," he grinned.

"And I will not let you sit at that piano stool for more than an hour at a time!"

"Very well then," he giggled.

"And I will cut your toenails!"

He laughed out loud.

"Why do you care about my toenails?"

"Because they're in a shocking state!"

"Very well."

Christine kissed his cheek. "And I will make sure you get a massage every day. Would you like that?"

"I think so."

She gently ran her fingers down his back. "You've not cared for yourself enough. But now I am here to look after you, and I will make sure you are happy and comfortable."

"I know, Christine," he said, grinning complacently. "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

Christine strolled contentedly through the shadows, and under the cypresses, of the Tuileries Garden. Next to her was Erik, dressed all in black.

They were both sedately clad. She wore a hooded velvet cloak tucked under her chin. Christine had not asked Erik why they had to be so secretive. But she trusted he knew what he was doing.

She smiled blissfully. She certainly had a pleasant secret to hug to herself. She felt as if she had grown up so much in the last twenty-four hours.

Her hand was wound in Erik's. He was shortening his long strides so she could keep pace.

Despite a bit of soreness in her ladies' area, Christine felt fantastic.

He was carrying most of the luggage. But that was typical. She had insisted on carrying her tiny reticule. But he was shouldering the box that contained most of her possessions.

He was so courteous to her. Often at his own expense! Well, when they got to their first hotel room, she would repay him. She smiled serenely as she thought of what she would do.

They were bound for Switzerland. And Christine could not describe her excitement. From there they would move on to wherever they wanted.

Erik squeezed her hand. She looked up at him fearlessly. Their love was warm, gentle, and utterly satisfying. How could she ever have doubted her darling?

"I want to rest," she said.

Christine wondered why Erik looked fretful. But he led her over to a bench. She sank down upon it.

"Walking all morning a bit hard?"

"We bought too much at the market," she giggled. "And your Persian friend just wouldn't stop."

Erik sighed. They had stopped off to visit Gulzar. And Erik had told Christine to sit with her coffee in the parlour, and wait. He had not let her enter Gulzar's study and hear the contentious things he'd had to discuss with the man.

Erik wanted to be honest with her. And maybe his regard for her might win out one day.

When he heard what she next had to say, he knew that it would.

"Oh, Erik." She sighed. "I feel sorry for Raoul in a way. I wonder how Raoul would feel if he saw us now. If he knew how well things have worked out between us."

She looked at him coquettishly.

And Erik decided he couldn't hold back the truth from her any longer.

"Look, my love. I'm sorry. There's something I haven't told you."

He sidled onto the bench next to her. He took her hands, inadequately, in his. Her eyes were wide with curiosity. Poor, innocent child.

He put a hand underneath her elbow. Then he gazed into her face as earnestly as he could. He wept because of what he had to tell her.

"Raoul... the Vicomte de Chagny..." He stammered out the word. "Dead."

He felt like she was a bonfire that would explode any moment.

Christine started. It was as if a thunderbolt went through her.

"No! No! No!" She began writhing around.

Erik grabbed onto her. He had known she would take this poorly.

He stroked her back. "My darling, I'm here."

"How did this happen, my husband?" Christine's teeth were clenched. She seemed to already know he had something to do with it.

So Erik told Christine the full story. Minus the fact that Raoul had seen her naked and making love.

Christine gazed at him. Erik took a deep breath.

She hesitated. She faltered.

"You were responsible!"

"I didn't know he'd put his foot in the trap! I did not lay it for him!"

"You bastard!" Christine shook him. "You laid it for someone! You wanted to kill someone!"

"Christine, I was only trying to protect us."

"Rubbish! No-one was coming for us! You use that as an excuse! You wanted to kill him! You hated him because I loved him, and did that to get your revenge on him!"

"But I sent you off with him. I gave my blessing to your union. Didn't I? And I saved him."

Tears were pouring down Christine's face. It took on a very distant look.

"Oh, Raoul," she moaned. "I will have to support you."

She then hit Erik, hard, in his chest. He grabbed both her hands. She kicked and struggled with all her might.

"No matter what, you're my wife. And you cannot leave. You made vows to me before God, Christine."

But he saw the look of hatred in her eyes.

"You're a stranger to me."

"I did not kill him, Christine! I did not kill him!"

He argued with her. But she ran.

Erik started after her. Christine disappeared in the crowd.

She could not outrun or outsmart him. Surely she couldn't. Erik would catch up with her. Whether he was carrying luggage or no, she could not escape him.

There were only a few places she might go. He would have to search for her at the Opera House. He sighed. Unless she went back to Madame Valerius...

Erik travelled, groaning, through the crowd. The sun was infernal. And his heart had just taken a dive through the streets. Where was she?

But Erik did not have much time to think. The gendarmes, approaching from the left promenade, had him within their sights.

Someone grabbed him from behind. Erik instinctively dropped his luggage, sprang, and pummelled fiercely with his elbows. Then he was punched sorely in the head, and was out like a light.

Christine sat like a wilted flower in Madame's house.

She regretted her actions now. No matter what Erik had done, leaving him had been criminal.

She was his wife. Was she not a good girl?

She had vowed to stay with him. She had to lie in the bed she had made, as the saying went. But it was more than that. He needed her.

Christine brushed away tears. She was terribly, terribly raw. She could not stay away from him.

She was not going to ask herself, again, if Erik truly had wished Raoul well in the end. Or if the trap had been made for Raoul.

Or if Erik was a merciful man. Or if her husband truly was an evil, cold-blooded murderer, and she should never have married him...

Christine put her hands to her head. She looked up and saw Miss Boucher in the light. The housekeeper did not know much about what had truly gone on.

She knew more than Christine's poor surrogate mother, though. Madame Valerius was lying in bed having her usual afternoon nap. Christine had not wanted to hurt her by saying what had happened.

Madame would have forgotten about it in an instant. Her dementia was advanced. But all the same, it was best if her innocent soul stayed peaceful. Christine did not want to stress her near the end of her life.

All Christine had to do was find her way back to Erik.

"You should have heard about what happened yesterday," the housekeeper said, smiling. "The Comte Philippe de Chagny... there were rumours of his murder beneath the Opera House. They say the murder was committed by a skulking madman, in a top hat and cape."

Christine looked at Miss Boucher in horror.

"A real, living phantom," the woman continued. "With bizarre golden eyes. A live ghost."

The housekeeper laughed.

"Well, now he's been caught," she continued. "The ghost is in the lock-up. Finally he will go on trial for the murder of that poor Comte. You should be glad, Miss Christine. You were going to marry into that family once."

Erik laid in Gulzar's guest bedroom. His normally sallow colour had paled.

Gulzar sighed. He held Erik's hand because there was no-one else to do so. Erik, dead, mourned by nobody except for one. Loved by nobody at all. That was what his epitaph should be.

"Gulzar?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to see her?"

"I promise I will."

Gulzar felt sorry about everything now. He had often felt fed up with Erik. And he had brought Raoul to rescue Christine.

Gulzar felt, now, that he should have left well enough alone.

Erik would never have hurt her. The worst thing that could have happened was marriage.

And it had.

Gulzar thought back to that joyous occasion. Madame Valerius chatting pleasantly to Erik. The two of them getting on well, bizarrely.

Christine smiling.

She had not been radiantly happy. But she had been willing. She had treated Erik for what he was. An old, sick man who she felt tender towards.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I can't understand why you escaped. When you feel there is nothing left for you to live for!"

"I wasn't going to have my life end by their dratted hands. Especially not for a crime I didn't commit."

"There's something else I meant to ask you."

"Yes, Gulzar?"

"You were digging your own grave by doing so. Why did you tell her?"

Erik spoke slowly and deliberately.

"What if she had found out from someone else, years later? To keep my silence would have been, in a way, a betrayal of Christine's trust. She was owed more than that. She was kinder to me than I ever deserved."

"I see, Erik."

Gulzar turned to face him.

"Did you intend for the de Chagny brothers to die?"

Erik sighed.

"No. Not the one I am accused of killing... nor the one no-one knows about, except you and Christine." He closed his eyes for a moment.

"I accept responsibility. I did set traps to protect myself. But no. It was not my intention."

His eyes focused weakly on Gulzar.

"Do you believe Erik?"

Gulzar groaned. He thought back, again, to the wedding. For the first time then he had heard Erik refer to himself as "I."

Erik had this very annoying habit. He referred to himself in the third person. As if he wanted to stand back from himself. As if he did not want to know who his own self was.

It seemed Erik had been happy, because of Christine, to make an effort to confront himself for once.

Well, Gulzar thought... miracles couldn't last.

Erik's skin was growing paler still in colour. The sun cast deep shadows in his eye sockets. Soon he would truly be a corpse at last.

Gulzar couldn't understand how Erik had pulled off his escape. But he had.

The man had prepared for disaster before he left home. He had sewn the Punjab lasso into the lining of his trousers. And a few bankrolls, too. And a spare silk mask. So just in case he got parted from his possessions, he wouldn't be helpless.

He had strangled his jailer with the lasso. He insisted, though, that he hadn't killed the man. He had only made him unconscious.

Then, he had swiped the keys. Then he had walked into the jailer's office. Heavens above... he had even located his own luggage. It had not been touched yet, because it was potential evidence.

Erik had picked up his bags and Christine's box too. Then he had coolly let himself out of the lock-up.

He had escaped through the night, staggering because of the severe bruises he had been dealt.

And then found his way here at about half past one. He had shimmied up the wall and let himself in where Gulzar had foolishly left the window open. But Gulzar had not been expecting the opera ghost. Again.

Erik was sore. But he could take a lot of pain. He had been a victim of torture, after all.

The reason he was fading was Christine.

"I thought there might be another future for you," said Gulzar.

"Erik thought so too. Erik thought he would survive. He felt... briefly last night... as if the world was his own."

Gulzar charted the course of a tear.

"Erik is on his way to hell. So can't you at least ease his passage there? Could you open the window?"

Gulzar sighed. Erik was having trouble breathing. Gulzar knew what was happening.

Erik was curling up like a wounded animal. It would only be a matter of time now.

Gulzar felt some compassion. Despite his constant problems with the man, he had never wanted things to end like this.

"Gulzar?"

"Yes?"

"Tell Christine I love her."

Gulzar sighed. I.

So Erik had at last decided to confront himself.

Gulzar went, later that day, to the residence of Madame Valerius. He expected Christine would be sorry. But he certainly did not expect her to come rushing back to her husband.

Judging by the way Erik had been, he thought she better come quick if she wanted to see him.

Christine was not in. She wished to negotiate with the Opera House managers. And that was where she was right now, apparently.

Would she get her job back? At any rate, that housekeeper had talked overtime. She did not seem to know, though, what had really happened with Christine.

When he arrived there Christine was impossible to find. He searched everywhere. Christine was not paying a visit to the ballet girls. She was not in conference with the managers. She was not rehearsing. She was not relaxing in the green room. In fact, she was nowhere in the building.

Gulzar still had a job to do here. Under here, anyway. Erik wanted to gaze upon his precious "Don Juan Triumphant" score for the last time.

Gulzar found the most secret entrance to the underground realms. Slowly he descended.

He felt wistful as he made his way to the lair. Once Erik did die... Gulzar was not looking forward to sorting things out.

Here, under the Opera House, he thought of the warmth and simplicity of Madame Valerius' abode. Well, if anything, Christine would find herself a wealthy woman. She would be the only beneficiary other than him.

This place was pleasantly familiar. There was a delicious sense of secrecy about it. Erik had certainly afforded him privileges. Gulzar would miss him.

No matter what a pain the man could be, he was... well, he was Erik. Gulzar wanted to cry for what Erik could have been. The woman was the only other one who understood. She was the only other one who had cared.

As he got closer to the lair he heard crying. Oh. Merciful Allah. Someone else was caught in one of Erik's traps. He angled his lantern towards the victim.

She was clinging to the portcullis. She was crying, and on occasion, screaming. Her clothes were dishevelled. She was covered in muck and mire from the underground.

"Erik," she moaned. "You are clever enough to escape. Why, oh why, can't you be here?"

Gulzar shone the light on her face. He gasped. "Christine!"

Christine stood at the door to Erik's bedroom.

Gulzar had taken her straight to Erik. She watched the Persian close the door. No doubt he expected her to bolt towards her husband like a racehorse.

Christine gazed at Erik as he laid in the bed. All her hysteria drained away. Here was the truth of the matter.

Erik looked so incredibly weak.

Christine moved towards him.

His face was a veritable study in hideousness. He looked a lot worse, if such a thing could be imagined.

She stroked his forehead. She dropped a tender kiss on his lips.

Erik moved slightly. "Christine?" he murmured. But she could tell he was unconscious. He thought she was only a dream.

First, Christine made sure the door was locked. Then she turned back to the bed. How did you wake a man in this state? She did not want to slap her darling. By the look of those bruises, he had already been through enough.

Without regretting her actions, she pulled back the bedclothes. He was wearing an open shirt and trousers. She unbuttoned them.

She stroked inside his left thigh. Erik now had an idea she was here. Christine pulled his pants a little bit further down.

She placed her lips over his cock. It was a loving kiss. She took his hips in a loving embrace.

Erik was waking up again to the real world. _"Oh... Christine..."_

He felt that soft, warm tongue against him. It was real. It had to be.

Oh... Christine.

He began to sit up in bed.

"Christine. My God."

There she was. Her blonde head bent lovingly over him. Her hair tumbled riotously.

He closed his eyes.

"Oh _Christine..._ just there..."

He groaned. She had found it. The spot where he just had to be touched. But then it changed.

"Just to the left," he moaned. "Please."

Christine was being obedient. She was submitting herself to his will. Her left hand stroked his sack reassuringly, soothingly, lovingly.

While the other supported his cock.

He felt that twist in his belly. He could not deal with this. He moaned too loudly. Then he began to thrash. His pleasure rose. Oh, it was too intense, just too intense...

He whimpered. He was helpless. But the lovely girl did not leave him. She still cradled him in her mouth. Still held him kindly as he rode it out, spasming. And then he was ready for more.

"No, Christine, no," he whispered. His smile showed he was only teasing.

Christine did not falter.

And as Erik was pleasured again, he accepted it was real. This ecstasy was happening.

He put his hand on her head, and groaned. He was making so much mess. He could feel it leaking into her mouth again. His eyes began to water. Sweat broke out.

He just smiled, and gave himself up helplessly to her ministrations. This was time for himself. Time to relax, and just be. Time to enjoy the return of his wife.

Finally he got there again. Still keeping her hand on his softness, Christine gazed at his face. His eyes had rolled back into his head. He was beaded with sweat, and flushed.

Some healthy colour. She sighed with relief.

She leaned forward and stroked his face.

He smiled, and took her hand. "Nothing more needs to be said. I know you love me, and you forgive me. You've just shown me that."

"Did I tell you that I'm sorry I hurt you? Did I tell you that I'm staying? And I will not hear one more word of this rubbish about you dying."

He sat up.

"I'll be here for a while yet," he said. "I will be here when you bear my children."

She smiled.

"We must leave," he said. "We must leave Paris. I will not let this little slip-up delay us any longer."

She kissed his bruised face. "My darling," she said, "I will do something about your injuries."

"You have already."


	3. Chapter 3

The best Erik was a nude Erik. Christine thought so, certainly. That way she could do as she pleased.

He laid on his back, satisfyingly naked. Christine felt over his body. He looked up at her wonderingly.

It was as if she was checking him for damages.

"I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?"

"No!" He smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better now you're here."

"I will make things very pleasurable."

Without warning, she turned him on his face. Erik placidly let her do it.

Then she spread her hands over his back. She had said she would massage him every day. She was not going to go back on her word.

"Ahhh... ohhh..." Erik began to sigh out some of his pain and suffering.

Christine pressed his spine. She wondered what they would do. A train journey, no doubt, was out of the question now. What on earth would Erik suggest?

He always came up with a solution. Spirit her underground, perhaps, through a network of tunnels? All the way to Switzerland? Christine giggled when she thought of it.

She worked further on his back. Erik breathed out his pain. He seemed happy and content. She had to press hard to release some of it.

She would probably bruise him, she thought wryly. But she had to. It was the only way to get that pain out.

She squeezed extra hard, near the middle of his back. He groaned luxuriously. "Let it out," she coaxed, gently.

Erik closed his eyes and let it flow away. It was hard. But he was accepting she had come. He was realizing these pleasant feelings were going to continue. He did not have to be poised, waiting to grab her if she ran.

"Relax. Just let go."

Erik was feeling heavenly. He felt her hands travel down to his bottom. She massaged there. Then she got to the tops of his thighs. She was stroking softly, teasing, tantalizing.

He was enjoying this intensely. But then she stopped.

"C-Christine?"

She gave his back a consoling stroke. "It's Mr Gulzar. He's at the door."

Christine was suddenly annoyed. She waited for Erik to cover himself. Then, very cautiously, she unlatched the door. Gulzar was standing there.

She did not want to see him. And to think that he knew what they had been doing...

Christine had not thought about it much at the time. But now, she realized Gulzar had probably heard Erik's moans.

He had. Gulzar had heard sex. He could smell sex. And he could see it, too. He saw the evidence, in her self-conscious face and Erik's victorious one.

"Well," he said. "It's good that you two are back together."

Christine blushed.

Erik grinned gleefully.

Gulzar approached the bed hesitantly. Erik looked up at him like a triumphant child.

"She loves me," said Erik. "I told you she does."

"Yes, I do." Christine smoothed back his hair, and gave his forehead a tender kiss.

Erik smiled. He gave Gulzar a look of delighted irony.

"I see," sighed Gulzar. "I realize I was not right about everything. But at any rate, you two must think of fleeing."

Christine twisted her fingers. Erik and Gulzar were discussing their leaving. Fleeing in the middle of the night? In a closed carriage, so nobody would see?

"I will arrange all that," said Gulzar. "I will be back in a few hours. Well," he said stiffly, "I will leave you two to talk."

Soon he was gone. With great relief, Christine brought water up to the room.

She had felt self-conscious with Gulzar around. But now she could do this. Strip naked, and finally wash. She had gotten quite dirty during her journey underground.

Christine kicked off her shoes. She turned around so Erik could help her with the back of her dress.

She sighed happily as he let down her hair. Erik helped her undress with great pleasure.

She washed, behind the screen in the corner.

Erik was sitting on the bed. She was not sure what he was thinking.

Christine towelled herself down. She felt enlivened and lovely.

She stepped out from behind the screen. Christine was thinking of the chemise Erik had bought her yesterday, amongst a lot of other clothes. She really needed to find that. It was nice and clean. Erik... the good boy... had retrieved all her luggage from the commisariat.

Despite his pain, he had carried it all the way here last night. Including those new things, which consisted of bags full of shopping. Even though she had left him in a rage. Even though she had been a bad wife, and he had thought he would never see her again. He still had wanted to deliver her luggage.

It was so typical of him. So awfully sweet.

Erik was now agog with pleasure. He was staring, wide-eyed and transfixed.

"Oh, Erik." She smiled fondly.

When Gulzar had come, she had given Erik time to get his pants on. Now she saw Erik had only flung the bedspread over his lap. He was still stark naked.

Christine grinned. The evidence of her ministrations still clearly showed. Erik's cock was hard again. It looked spectacular.

Erik's gaze travelled up and down her body. She blushed. He put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her around. Then he gazed at her back.

Christine felt terribly hot.

"I thought I'd never see all this again." He sounded overcome with emotion. "My dear, sweet angel, come to me. Come to your poor Erik."

Christine stepped up and put her arms around him. Erik carried her to the bed. Then, he gazed at leisure.

He stared at that fragile girl's body with awe and thankfulness. He lowered himself towards her shell-pink nipple. He buried his head in her softness.

Christine felt tender warmth flood through her. As he stroked her soft sensitive breasts she began to feel little tingles, and a heat radiating from her heart area.

She scratched his head. She stroked his scant hair as he laid across her, moaning. "Do that," she sighed, as he covered her breasts with his hands.

Erik grinned. Ah yes, she was his. She was his again. He mouthed a luscious nipple, thinking of Raoul lying in his damp grave. Erik thanked the Lord, who he now felt existed after all, that it was he who had this warm girl.

And that it was he who was pulsing and living.

He had never thought their positions would be reversed. Raoul, who had been so utterly smug. Who had been adored all his life. Was now lying in that cold grave. And Erik was sampling the delights of Christine's body.

Her heart rate accelerated. Her blood warmed. Christine could feel Erik stroking her skin. Not just her breasts, but her shoulders, tummy, and lower down. She felt excited and embarrassed. She still felt a bit ashamed of him seeing her private part.

And touching it. She felt self-conscious. She was sure it looked dreadful.

Erik looked up at her for a moment. In those strange yellow eyes in their deformed sockets, she saw him. She saw Erik.

She was suddenly comforted.

"Take me, Erik," she pleaded.

"What did I hear you say?"

"Take me. I love you."

At times it was hard. She felt the panic she had last time. The fear that she would completely lose control.

But somehow that made it more exciting.

And it increased her trust. The fact that no matter how far she disgraced herself, and no matter how raw and primitive she became, he loved her.

Erik's tongue entered her privates. His thin lips and rotting teeth pressed against her tender spots. Christine moaned, and angled herself to feel it better.

He pulled her hips further towards him. Then he started forcing her in place.

Christine was helpless now. She was a slave to what he wanted to do.

His tongue left her quim. "No..." she moaned. Then his body moved up over hers. He felt her breasts once again. He looked eager. He looked possessive. It was a gloating, gleeful look.

"Want me, Christine?" he asked softly.

"Erik, please."

Christine watched as he drew back. To her relief, his large penis began to come towards her.

How long would it be before he got inside her... and satisfied her... the lining of her little quim was pulsing with blood.

And then, she felt his sharp, bony fingers parting the soft folds of her body. He touched a crucial spot. She mewled, and bucked into him.

"All in good time, my Christine," he smiled.

And then, he slid into her. The massaging of his cock made her explode. She whined, and moved furiously. She secreted a great deal of fluid.

His urgency made her feel more excited. As did his fervid groans.

Christine closed her eyes and let the convulsions go through her. It was like the first time. Her body was reacting ferociously. It was going off on its own. Acting out of instinct, doing things that were a mystery. She just let it happen.

She lost awareness of how wild and crazy she was becoming. Of how many blissful thrusts her body was doing, of how rumpled she must look.

When it was finished she laid, exhausted. He trailed a hand across her belly. She took that hand and kissed it.

"Christine?"

She looked up to see her husband hovering over her. The features sunken as if they were melted by wax. His anxious golden eyes almost lost in their sockets. The dark nasal cavity glinting with snot. The unfortunate lips. To tell the truth they revealed his teeth most of the time. He looked like he was snarling.

"Erik, sweetheart."

She gave those dreadful lips a lingering kiss.

"Good?" he asked.

Christine kissed him again. She let her tender, persistent mouth speak for itself.

With a grunt of contentment he laid down next to her.

She pulled him to her. She brought her hands down his back, rubbing, soothing, massaging. He sighed blissfully.

"Did you... enjoy that, Christine?"

"Sublimely."

Christine drifted off into a light sleep. The gentle sunlight, just leaking through the top of the shutters, imprinted on her eyelids. She moved into her husband's body.

When she awoke she let herself rest for a moment. But she had to think of Erik. Somehow she could not bear him sleeping. She was afraid he might never wake up.

"Erik?" she said gently. She stroked him awake.

He growled, and pulled her against him. She felt his teeth pressing into her neck.

She laughed. "You must eat. And that doesn't just mean eating me."

"Oh no." He groaned. But he also grinned at her.

"When was the last time you ate, Erik?"

Erik looked as if he knew he'd be told off.

"When we came here yesterday, my love. And that was only because I knew you'd be cross if I didn't."

"Oh, dear! Not since yesterday morning?"

Christine remembered the delicious little honey cakes Gulzar had served them. Yes. Erik really had eaten one. And seemed to like it, too.

"I am going to feed you."

"All right." He giggled.

Christine went downstairs to the kitchen. She got together grapes, cheese, eggs, salami, and those honey cakes. She carried the plate upstairs, prepared to do battle. She was hungry herself. But she did not know if she could coax her husband.

"Now, you've got a long way to travel." She held out a tempting-looking piece of cake. "Eat that. And if you don't, I'll put it in your mouth."

"Christine!" He blushed.

"Put it in your mouth, big boy."

He stared at her. His jaw dropped. That was convenient. She casually slid it between his lips. Before he knew it he was spluttering.

"Oh, please. Swallow. You've got a long way to travel."

"I hate this!"

Christine picked up a piece of salami. She coolly slid it into his mouth. He looked affronted, but he chewed and swallowed it.

Erik had such a revulsion towards food. But at any rate, she was going to make sure he ate.

He seemed offended when she turned away and laughed.

"Christine!"

"Well, this is funny." She kissed his cheek. "I love you. Come on. Eat some more."

Christine managed to make him eat half the plateful. He sighed.

"I suppose it's not that bad," he said wearily. "You're doing it because you love me."

"I only want the best for you, sweetheart."

Later that day, Christine sat on the floor. Thank God. She still had all her lovely things. All the new items Erik had bought her, and her essential bits and pieces, too.

Her toothbrush... her face cream... her underwear... and everything else. She sighed with satisfaction. There were ladies' magazines to read on her travels. Her old photographs. All the mementoes of her opera career.

It must have tortured Erik to carry all this. But then, he did have a habit of spoiling her. He had said he would buy her whatever she wanted, and he was filthy rich.

After carrying her indulgences, all the way to the Tuileries Garden and then from the commisariat, his back must have been very bad indeed. She was sick of Erik straining himself, even if it was for her. Thank heaven she had massaged the pain away.

She opened a suitcase. There it was. She could see the lace peeking out.

That was her wedding dress. Everything had been as it should on the day. Orange blossom in her hair. A gauzy veil. And yes, a white, frilly dress.

Christine smiled to herself.

And as for the ring Erik had bought her... she had never once taken it off.

Christine hated to think of what she had done. But then, she had never meant to.

She knew she had never truly intended to leave her husband. She had run away in a state of shock.

She had raced madly through the streets. She had been grieving. She had been angry. And when she had tried to find him afterwards, he was gone.

She had rubbed his chest a lot today. She thought back, sadly, to how hard she had hit it.

Erik's body was sensitive. He had been whipped, punched and bashed constantly through his life. She had vowed to give him love. To not do what everyone else had done for always. And she had already let him down.

Erik had been badly beaten by the gendarmes, as was his fate. He insisted his bruises were from them. Not from her. But she thought of the whole thing with despair.

She remembered looking for Erik. She had walked back through the streets and reached the Tuileries Garden. She had gone to Madame Valerius' house, hoping he would come there to look for her.

And then later... she shivered to think of it.

She had gone to the opera house. She had stood in her dressing room, praying he would come. She had gone through that mirror. She had even walked a bit of the way down the cold secret passage.

She had not continued far. She knew how treacherous it was without him. Then, she had tried the other path.

That way led directly into their home. As she was his wife, he had taught it to her.

It had been nerve wracking. Those corridors were dark and full of slime.

She remembered how horrid it had been. Fighting her way into the parlour and finding Erik was not there.

Then having to go back home to Madame Valerius and sleep, vowing to do it again tomorrow.

And as for what had happened today...

She had returned to their home underground. And then she had got to the front, and raised the portcullis. She knew how. Erik had showed her.

She had had the desperate urge to cry out for him. See if he was coming across the lake.

But somehow, she had broken the portcullis! She must not have secured it behind her properly. It had come crashing down.

And she had been trapped in the very spot where she had lost her virginity. Unable to go back in. Unable to get above ground. She would have had to travel a way which was very dangerous if she was not accompanied by Erik.

Then Gulzar had turned up. At first, with welcome news.

Yes. Christine had known Erik would probably break out of the cell. He was clever.

Then, Gulzar had said her husband was dying. Christine had flung herself at Gulzar. With her screaming and dragging at him, they had begun the long journey home.

Christine walked over to the bed. Erik was sleeping lightly.

Erik was a restless sleeper. She knew that very well from living with him. He got precious little sleep. And what he did get was broken by sleepwalking, thrashing against his bed, and yelling.

So, it was nice to see him resting. Christine thought she could let go of her anxiety for a moment. She would let him sleep undisturbed.

She was not sure if his remarkable snoring was caused by his gaping nasal cavity. But at any rate, Christine found it astonishing. When Erik did sleep, he produced the most humongous, snuffling, ludicrous snores.

She was always halfway between finding it hilarious and being intensely annoyed. But she loved his snores though. They were something clumsy and embarrassing that he did, which were uniquely him. They just endeared him to her further.

Christine leaned forward and stroked his hair. His face was peaceful.

This was how she had felt when they had first spoken. When they had first breathed together. As if she could not be without him.

Despite him looking so different, and seeming so different... they were the one soul. It was scary. Christine could not leave Erik. She never could.

Even when she had been apart from him physically, she had felt such a dreadful urge to get back.

She gazed at him sleeping.

Oh, if fate ripped them apart now...

She would never forgive it. She would fight fate itself.

* * *

Author's note: "Her Virtue" and "Where is my Beloved" are both continuing.


	4. Chapter 4

Erik kissed her. She would have to say goodbye to him now.

Christine would be alone in the carriage for five hours. Well, essentially alone. Gulzar would be sitting opposite her. And she did not really feel like talking to him.

Gulzar was turned away from them, falling asleep. Like she no doubt would.

Her and Erik embraced gently.

"I will have to be at the reins, darling."

"I am worried about you."

"Yes, but Gulzar can't do it for the whole journey. I have to do it some of the time."

He gave her a secret kiss on the forehead. And then, he uncurled his graceful legs. Christine watched Erik slither out of the carriage, and then heard him walking around to the front.

He climbed up into the driver's seat. He cracked the whip. And then they were off.

Christine looked up and around her. She had all her luggage here. The windows, of course, were curtained against the night. This carriage was exquisitely private.

It was one in the morning.

Gulzar had bought this wonderful conveyance today with Erik's money. Also two magnificent horses.

Now they faced a long journey.

Christine huddled up under her blanket. She slept. But when she woke, past times filled her mind.

* * *

The soft slosh of the oars. The swift movement of the gondola. The eerie, quiet mist of the lake.

And Erik's agony.

That seized her in its grasp and failed to let go. She wriggled, turning to face the lair. She jerked up and down so the gondola rocked.

The thick sludginess of his grief. She could not get away from it. She gripped the edge of the boat, desperate to get back.

Raoul held her down.

"We are together at last, my love," he said. "You shall have a soft bed at the de Chagny mansion. A salt bath. Gooey cakes."

He smiled at her ingratiatingly.

"And tomorrow, we will go for a walk by the sun-kissed lake on my estate," he said drily.

Christine did not want any of that.

He held her in place, a protective arm around her.

But Christine did not want him.

She wanted to be with that horror back in the lair. That criminal. That madman. Yes. She did not give a damn what he had done.

She knew if all his prejudices were stripped away... all his fear, all his rage... all his bad experiences, and all his hurt... all his painful memories...

He would emerge as a being of light. A being of pure love.

Who made her feel as if she was home. Who made her feel as if she was there, in heaven, like nobody else did.

Christine closed her eyes.

She could remember the pure light filling her soul when she had heard him sing. She wanted him bad. Her longing to be with him was like a physical torture.

"No," she murmured, crouched in one corner of the boat. "I'm not meant to be here. I've got to go!"

"She is just beguiled," said Gulzar. "Don't worry about this at all, Raoul. You have got the girl. Take her above ground. Forget about all this."

"He is going to die!" Christine moaned.

"And there's not much you can do," said Gulzar. "Leave the poor man to rot. He's spent a lifetime alone. It will not make much difference if he is alone at the end."

"Nobody cares about him," she wailed. "Everybody was fussing over what is better for Raoul and Christine. But what..."

Her voice rose to an indignant scream.

"What about what is best for Erik?"

Raoul gazed, in surprise, at the spit frothing from her mouth. Enraged tears filled her eyes.

"Nobody cared about him!" She wept. "Even I didn't towards the end." She gulped. "How could I have left? How could I have not realized..."

Her voice broke. Suddenly there was terrible sobbing.

Raoul took her quietly in his arms. "Come on, my love..."

"No!" She wriggled away. "You are not Erik."

Raoul looked at her in surprise. And then he clenched his teeth furiously.

"Christine, don't worry about that monster," said Gulzar. "If you want to write him a letter, do. Tell him about your marriage to Raoul. He should rejoice in your good fortune. It might give him comfort in his last days."

Christine looked, helplessly, at the two men in the boat. Raoul was sullen. Gulzar was disapproving.

Well, she cared.

She knew she did, now.

Now she had gone away from him, every drop of her blood was screaming to get back.

She would have to do this covertly. It was no sacrifice. Poor Erik was only likely to last a few more weeks anyway. How could she deny him?

She would hand over herself. If he was not too ill and full of self-loathing to take it, he could have her virginity. Her hand in marriage. Everything.

How could she get by without him, anyway? She would put the two of them back together. Fitting together like the perfectly matched pieces they were... when she was not bogged down by her own fear and shallow, self-seeking revulsion. And when Raoul was not there to wreck it all with his beauty.

* * *

Christine stood up in her little bedroom. She had told the staff she was going for a picnic in the Tuileries Garden. But she was actually planning to do something else altogether.

She grabbed the picnic hamper that was handed to her by a servant. Then she took it upstairs and placed some items in it. Pictures of her parents. Old cards and letters. Money. Her identification papers, and enough for an overnight stay.

Raoul was not in today. He was out on business. He was preparing for their elopement. Nobody in his family approved of him marrying an opera singer. So he just wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

The de Chagny footman drove her to the Tuileries. He let her out at a pleasant shady spot. Christine nodded, and then quietly trekked to the opera house.

Soon thereafter she entered it. She was relieved that the place was quiet. On this morning, not much was happening. She threaded through the corridors to her old dressing room.

She had left a letter for Raoul. Raoul would not want her if she came back as Erik's widow. But there was no way she was changing her mind. No way.

Christine opened the door. There was no-one here. Good.

She bolted the door. Erik had always come to get her. Would he now?

She wept. She went to the mirror. And then she prayed. She leaned her head against the glass.

Christine opened the mirror a little bit. She just felt, instinctively, that he was going to come to her.

She was there for a while. It was just as well she had a picnic basket filled with pastries, sausages, roast chicken and other goodies. After a while Christine began to nod off to sleep.

Eventually he came.

Christine was getting anxious. Then, she heard him. A gasp tore from her body. Erik was coming. She could not mistake the sound of his footsteps.

But his footsteps were dragging in a dreadful, slow cadence.

Breathless, she opened the mirror. It swung obediently open like a door. And then, she saw him.

His image was chaotic. It was not the organized Erik she knew. His feet were shuffling. And a dreadful stench emanated from him, even worse then usual. It was the stench of illness and death.

Christine took a moment to adjust. Erik was not wearing his mask. His frightening, skull-like face was a terrible apparition.

If she had not known him, she would have screamed and run away.

His teeth were clenched. His hair, what was left of it, was plastered to his sweating skull. The dark holes that were his eye sockets revealed his anguish. It was clear in the tiny, pallid pinpricks that were his eyes.

They had once been gold searchlights. Now his eyes were tired and red from crying.

Erik looked like he had no energy left at all. He gave the impression of a man right at the end of his time. Then, he saw her.

She saw those eyes focus.

Christine started. She hesitated. She had come to see him. But he stank so bad, and his usually ugly appearance was so beyond repulsive. She was not sure if she could do this after all.

Christine approached him. Erik crumpled at her feet. He gazed up at her, his mouth open, showing his rotted, yellow, smelly teeth and glinting spit. She saw the look in his eyes. Total despair.

"Oh, Erik."

Christine dropped to her knees. She shuffled towards fragile, broken Erik.

And then she did it. She reached out her arms. She took his poor head, and laid it on her shoulder.

As he wept she stroked the tension out of his rigid back. Her hand moved firmly up and down his knobbly spine. There was so much bone sticking through his clothes. She rubbed him, trying to take his pain away.

He cried so long and hard. He soaked the shoulder of her dress. Hysterical, high-pitched sobs tore from him.

Christine could not stand the hacking sound of his voice. She let go, and opened the picnic hamper. She pulled out the bottle of spring water.

She put her arm around his neck. "Don't ruin your beautiful voice," she said gently. She put the water to his lips.

He agreed to drink. He swallowed a few times, awkwardly and painfully. Afterwards he seemed a bit better.

She got out her handkerchief. "Come, Erik." She wiped the tears and sweat from his face. He closed his eyes and let her do it. He groaned. At last he seemed contented.

"Why are you here, Christine?"

"And why are you here, Erik? How did you know I was here?"

"Christine wanted her Erik," he said in a slow, deliberate voice. "He knew she was here, waiting for him. So he came."

"You knew?" A smile curved Christine's lips. "I had no doubt."

She placed her arms around him. He held her so tight. For the first time today, she felt happy.

"Oh, Erik. I couldn't leave you."

"But why do you want to be with a miserable wretch like Erik?"

Christine did it. She leaned back from his hideous face. She focused on it. Then she leaned forward.

His shoulders were rising in amazement. But she kept her hands steadily on them. She sought his pathetic thin, pale lips.

She felt him reel in astonishment. But her lips did touch his, and stayed there.

Afterwards, Erik once more began to cry. His sobs shrieked at a crazy rate. He buried his head in her lap. Christine sighed.

She rocked him for quite some time. She stroked his damp hair. She pressed her thumbs into his stiff neck, hoping to coax out some tension. Her hands moved down to his rigid shoulders.

He was twisting his back, yet again. She knew he had an itch he could not reach, which caused him great distress. Why had she not helped him before?

She had not comforted him when she heard him scream from night terrors. She had not washed his face when he cut it. She had not scratched that constant itch on his back. She had just tossed her head, folded her arms and detached from him.

This was the least she could do.

She placed her hands on his back. She scratched, slowly and thoroughly.

Finally he seemed happy. He moved into her with a little wiggle of pleasure. She felt him relax.

"Feel good?"

He grunted. He shook his shoulders, releasing tension.

"Mmm. You are an angel."

He sank happily across her lap. Christine smiled. His muscles were at last softening under her touch.

She laboriously scratched with both hands. After a while he seemed to fall asleep.

Carefully she lifted him. She smoothed back his hair, and gazed into his face.

He blinked. He was returned to the present. She saw a peaceful smile.

" _Ahh..._ that was divine."

Christine noticed the lines of stress had smoothed. She touched his cheek.

"I will be here. I will comfort you."

Erik smiled hesitantly.

"Erik?"

"Yes, my darling?"

"I've come to stay. I will marry you, after all."

He looked at her with wide, incredulous eyes. She noticed a smear of snot under his nasal cavity. His face was still red and mottled from crying.

"It was a bad idea to leave you. I am sorry I did," she said.

Erik gasped.

The look on his face was heartrending. That look of doubt, inadequacy, fear, concern, and shame.

He looked an even more hideous sight than usual. He did not look very kissable. Not with those globules of quivering green snot on his lips.

Christine wiped them away, leaned forward, and kissed him full on the mouth. "Darling, I shall be your bride. I will look after you."

He stared at her with that disbelieving look. Then, it was as if a light flared inside him. His mouth curved in a smile.

"I'm here," she promised. "I'm not going." As he huddled against her she realized they were both vulnerable. She felt drained.

How could she do this?

But she would. No matter what.

* * *

They returned to the lair after the wedding. A feeling of unease grew in her belly.

She was not sure if Erik would really and truly take her above ground. He had said they would be a normal couple. He had said they would stroll in the park, in the warm sunlight. That that was what he longed for.

She was not sure if she could hold him to that.

But at any rate, he was a different Erik.

He was not the controlling, domineering creature he had been since Raoul had ruined things. Poisoned their love. Come between them...

Erik was contrite and placid. Like a tamed beast.

She had been frightened by the thought of making love to him. She knew she did love. But could she love him... in that way?

She had pulled that chair outside. Just sat alone contemplating life. And wondered, how on earth could she have married him?

And then had come the wedding night.

Christine smiled to herself.

The most wonderful night of her life.

Ever since then, her body had been different. She was more awake and aware. She felt loved, and cherished, and confident.

She had honestly thought Erik would not consummate the marriage. He had seemed afraid that if he touched her he would corrupt her.

But she had underestimated his ability to make love. She smiled, and hugged herself.

At any rate, she wondered how he was now.

She was very concerned about him sitting up in that driver's seat. Anything might strike him down. He was fragile and delicate. She was sure his body was still weak.

Gulzar would take over driving when daylight came. And she wished it would be sooner rather than later. Her husband had been driving for hours. He needed to be in a horizontal position.

Christine cast a surreptitious look at the Persian. He was slumped across the seat.

She leaned out of the window. She wondered how Erik was going with the horses.

Gulzar looked up. "Don't look out the window, Mrs Erik. People might see you."

"Don't be silly, Mr Gulzar!" That was the most ridiculous thing Christine had heard. It was pitch black out there.

Then, she realized something. The noises outside were changing. And it was getting very damp out there. Dawn was coming on.

"Probably very soon time to change, Mrs Erik."

It was. Soon, Christine heard Erik reining the horses in. Gulzar got up and opened the door.

Christine heard Erik hopping down. She kept worrying. Could he stand up on his feet?

She prepared the seat. She made sure he could lie down properly. And she would make sure he ate, too.

She got up. And then she realized how uncomfortable she was.

She had been in this carriage for about five hours. Her back was sore. Her joints ached. And she was utterly desperate to go to the lavatory.

Erik appeared at the door. "Come on, darling," he said. "Time to- ah- do what we must do."

She sighed. She let him help her down. Christine's body was rather tired. She had been a dancer since childhood, and so aches and pains were familiar to her.

At any rate, they were all over her now. She gritted her teeth. "Ow!"

"What's wrong, darling?"

"My back. My- bottom. Very sore."

"I'll help you, when we get back into the carriage," he said tenderly. "For now, we must do this."

Christine walked wonkily into the bushes with Erik. She hated having to do this. She ground her teeth with frustration.

She did not want to think of anyone watching her. She did it with Gulzar, thankfully, far away.

She did not want to think even her husband, who was standing guard, could hear what she was doing. Well, he had to do the same. She stood guard for him too.

They returned to the carriage with arms linked. She moaned. "I hate this!"

"No-one likes relieving themselves when they're travelling, Christine. Well, we have to do it at some time." He just sniggered.

He handed her into the carriage. Christine was realizing there were disadvantages in travelling with two men. Some things were just plain embarrassing.

Fed up, she took off her shoes. She stretched out.

They had to wait for Gulzar. Then, they were off again.

She cuddled up into Erik's lap. "Now, how can I help you?" he asked.

She pointed to her lower back. That terrible spot that was strained from sitting so long.

Erik calmly removed her dress. He unlaced her corset, and pushed her chemise out of the way. He pulled her petticoats down as he laid her onto the seat.

His fingertips pressed into her flesh. She groaned. His welcome hands smoothed up and down her spine. She shivered. She began to giggle and relax.

He massaged her lightly. Her nerves tingled pleasurably. Then, he dug his hands in so hard that it hurt. But necessarily so.

"Oh, Erik."

"How does that feel?"

He had such reassuring hands. They were long, and thin, and strong and firm as steel.

"There, Erik. That's the spot."

He pressed her till there were red marks.

"Just there..." she gasped. He rubbed her expertly, pressing hard, shifting her tension.

"It's got to hurt if it's going to heal," he said sympathetically. "Is that starting to help?"

"Ah, yes. Much better."

Erik pulled her panties right down. He took a buttock in each hand, and squeezed tightly. She heard his breath quickening. He wriggled closer.

He found a spot beneath her panty line that was very tense. He dug into it very hard. At first it was excruciatingly painful. And then she felt the waves of relief as the stress dissolved, and her flesh glowed with a pleasant warmth.

"How is that?" he asked gently.

"Oh, Erik." She laughed riotously. She was half embarrassed. Half absolutely delighted.

He exposed all of her bottom and thighs. She could sense his relish. He leaned over her, and she could almost feel his every nerve prickling.

Christine put her hands over her face. Erik had never entered her from behind.

He took hold of her feet. He tickled them a little bit.

She wriggled.

"Does that feel comfortable, Christine?"

"Yes."

He was carefully positioning her legs. And then, she felt his hand go up her.

A strong, firm fingertip leaned into her pleasure spot. Christine groaned. She arched, pushing herself against it as hard as she could.

He pushed his fingertip firmer against her. She, accordingly, pushed down. As his hand slid inside her she moulded herself around it, bucking and pushing wildly, until she reached the point of climax.

He pulled his pants down. Horribly, the fingers came out. She bucked with desperation as he readied himself.

Erik slapped her briefly on the bottom. He scrunched her left buttock up in his hand, giving it a firm twist. He had not forgotten their spanking sessions when she was younger.

That sweet child, who would come to him saying she deserved a spanking, because her conscience was bothering her...

And then, he would tentatively oblige. He would not do it hard unless she asked him to. But if she did, he would spank with a vengeance.

Christine was praying he would enter her now. The bruises forming on her bottom made her more ecstatic. His ferocious spanking made her feel a sweet, submissive urgency. She squirmed helplessly, loving him all the more.

And then she felt it. The heavy slide of his penis into her.

Christine arched upwards. Then she began to scream. The orgasm filled her fully, so she went off on her own.

Christine surged and writhed, the ecstatic trickles of delight running up and down her as his seed poured into her, and he bucked with a wild violence.

Afterwards, they could hear the carriage moving rapidly. "Gulzar must be jealous," said Erik, giggling.

He was rubbing his hands slowly up and down her bottom. Christine sighed. It was worth it for this.

"I didn't hurt you did I?"

"Don't mind me at all. I've deserved it for a long time. I'm glad you did that."

They had ended up in the trough. Christine scrambled back up onto the seat. She could see the smile on his face. She turned her face to the wall, smiling too.

How could they have forgotten the naughty child she had been? Requesting spankings from him? The cheek!

Neither of them had said anything about it for years. And she had not felt that warm, punishing sting for quite some time. But it was rather welcome.

"Erik, you need your massage too," she said. "I said I would give you one every day, didn't I?"

"Then be quick."

"Come here. Take off all your clothes."

Christine pulled him impatiently up onto the seat. She tittered. That sting was rather hot. But it certainly felt a lot better than the muscular aches and pains which he had rubbed away. She sighed with contentment.

She stripped him. She really did not know why he had not taken all his clothes off before. She made him naked.

He just went limp, and let her do whatever. He smiled.

As she positioned herself behind him, she slowly stroked his balls.

"Yes... put your tongue there... _ooh..."_

She absorbed herself in what she was doing. She did not know Gulzar, who could hear everything, was shaking his head and tut-tutting at the front of the carriage.

* * *

Gulzar negotiated the carriage round a bend. Well, that Erik was getting one up on him. It was the last time Gulzar would take matters into his own hands, and make a decision about Erik, without consulting him first.

Erik had the best deal now. And Gulzar felt annoyed and jealous. He no doubt felt everything that Erik had wanted him to feel.

Gulzar tried to smile to himself. He tried hard.

Suddenly, another carriage waylaid him. There was nothing he could do. Gulzar stopped.

As some men walked over to him, Gulzar felt his spine prickle. He would feel sorry if everything was all over for Erik and Christine. At any rate, he would have to ride this storm.

Someone waved to him. Gulzar blinked. This man was being ridiculously dramatic in the middle of the street.

"Good sir, do you know the whereabouts of that escaped murderer from Paris? That opera ghost?"


	5. Chapter 5

Gulzar started. "I do not know what you are talking about."

The man stood before him, hands on hips. He had greasy hair to his shoulders and grimy beard stubble. Then, Gulzar realized something. He was drunk.

This was no gendarme in disguise. It was just a ridiculous reveller. However, he and his friends were very intimidating.

"We heard a story about an opera ghost. We wondered if he would be- in this carriage!" They all laughed. Then, they spilled out in various directions.

"You believe in myths?"

"We'll rout the ghost out, before the day is over," said one of them. He tapped the carriage and sniggered. "Out of there, ghost!"

"Enough! Let me get on my way!"

The man still stood there. Then his friends walked up, and started tapping on it too.

"Hey, ghost?"

"Oooooo!"

"Get out!"

* * *

Christine laid her tongue against Erik's sack. She could not hear anything that was going on out there.

Instead she shared a very private moment with Erik. She buried her face in that soft, tender skin. Inhaling his scent and his warmth.

He moaned, and got up on all fours. He wriggled a bit further up the seat.

She kept his pleasure going. He shook steadily as her tongue slid all over. She brought her hand down over his sack, and then up to his penis. His shaking became more intense.

His cock was slick and lubricated with his own fluid. She stroked it a few times. He groaned desperately.

Christine pulled him up onto his knees. She brought one hand, now wet, to the back of him. She slid her finger up his arse. This was a delightful thing to do. Partly because it was so naughty. Also because he enjoyed it so much.

Her other hand enclosed his cock. She stroked comfortingly. He moaned, and began to cave in.

A man banged against the carriage. He smiled, and looked triumphantly at Gulzar.

"Sounds like your ghost's got himself a nice whore."

He continued banging. He was no doubt hoping to rouse the couple who were _in flagrante._

"Enough!" said Gulzar, tut-tutting. He lashed his whip.

"Oh… you're spoiling our fun," said the stubbly man crossly. Gulzar watched as they set upon the carriage. They all jokingly banged it.

Gulzar could Erik groan louder and louder. It was obvious he and Christine were totally oblivious.

"Get out of here!" Gulzar lashed the whip hither and thither as a warning.

One man put his hands on his hips, and smiled archly at Gulzar. "I want to get in there. That woman in there… the ghost's whore… well, I never knew ghosts had so much fun. Maybe she might do me!"

He started to unbutton his trousers.

"Enough of that!" Gulzar lashed the man across the crotch area.

The men fell back in an undisciplined rabble. For a moment, Gulzar thought they would set upon him. But instead, cursing and muttering, they went back to their own carriage.

Gulzar waited till they were gone. They climbed on, taking forever. One by one.

Then finally, the carriage door slammed shut. They drove off wonkily, taking their beer breath elsewhere.

* * *

Christine was glad she had got Erik to this stage. If anything was good for him, this was.

Erik sighed dreamily. He concentrated heavily on his growing orgasm.

Christine was so excited. His groans drove her on further. She kept pushing into the same spot. Every time she did, he pushed back.

She could hear the intensity of his ecstasy. So fragile and heartfelt. She continued stalwartly, smiling to herself. He was whimpering and talking aimlessly. "Oh, Jesu… oh God… don't stop!"

He sounded so frail. Then a wave of energy went through him. He surged upwards sharply, nearly hitting Christine in the nose.

This orgasm seemed to go forever.

Eventually he sank down, drained, onto the seat. He stretched languidly. The carriage stank of his profuse sweat.

She could feel the atmosphere. As if they had just experienced an earthquake.

Christine felt slightly concerned. Erik looked as if he had gone for a huge sprint. His face was beet red. His whole body was bathed in sweat.

She rubbed his thighs. He moaned, and parted his legs. She kept up her comforting rubbing.

"Now, was that all right, Erik? It wasn't too much?"

"Oh, Christine," he moaned. "You've outdone yourself."

Christine smiled to herself. She was no innocent. She was a ballet rat, after all.

She had heard about how to please a man. She had sometimes pretended she was innocent. It was the façade that Erik, Raoul, and Madame Valerius had all wanted to believe in.

But now she saw there was not much point in pretending. She was a woman who knew things.

Erik rolled a glazed eye contentedly. He gave her a relaxed, drained smile.

"Ah, don't worry yourself, my love," he said.

"I nearly broke you, didn't I."

They both giggled.

Christine felt very glad. Erik dropped off to sleep. She pulled him into her lap, and stroked him soothingly.

Erik was taking deeper breaths. He sounded robust. This would keep him happy for quite some time.

Christine tucked the blanket over him. Maybe her husband would at last know good health.

* * *

With the help of a wayfarer, Gulzar reined the horses in and dismounted. He gave the raggedy wayfarer a coin. Then he waited till he was gone.

They could replace the horses. But that would involve going to a transit stop. And there, people might find out who they were. So they must rest for a few hours.

Gulzar quietly tied the horses up. Then he went to wash in the nearby stream.

The others would no doubt come to bathe later. And the last thing Gulzar wanted was to wash where Erik had. Yuck!

He wanted to keep well away from Erik's horrid flesh. Let Christine lick him all she liked. But he would not go anywhere near him.

Gulzar bathed alone, taking his time. Once he was done, though, he had to talk to that benighted couple.

If Erik was asleep, Gulzar felt some satisfaction at the thought of disturbing him.

Gulzar fancied he could smell him from here. What did that woman see in him, anyway?

He also fancied he had heard Erik's snoring. He could just visualize the man lying across the seat. With snot dripping from his nasal cavity. And his mouth open, showing his horrible teeth.

Why did that noise have to be so dreadful? Gulzar had heard it reverberating triumphantly behind him from the driver's seat, destroying the peace of the woods. While no doubt Christine cooed over him, admiring him.

Gulzar strode across to the carriage. He lifted his whip. He lashed it adamantly across the door. Maybe harder than he needed to.

* * *

Christine was lying over the seat. She did not even realize that she had slept.

She and Erik were top to tail. Why hadn't she gotten up and gone to the other side? It was a wonder one of them hadn't fallen off.

She knew Erik was awake. He was smiling happily, and beginning to wriggle around. Christine looked down. Oh, dear!

Her panties were wound down sluttishly around her ankles. Her stockings were screwed up on the floor, discarded. Her corset laid beside her.

Her dress, scandalously, was at the far end of the seat.

She sat up groggily. Then she realized Erik had a worse problem than her. He laid out flat, his long body taking up most of the space. He was stark naked.

She pulled the blanket over his rump, embarrassed.

"You two." Gulzar knocked on the door. "We will have to stop now."

Erik laid there, grinning. She knew he was more amused than anything else.

He sat up. "Give us time," he called through the door. "You wouldn't want to come in here, anyway."

Christine heard Gulzar stride away.

Erik took her face in his hands. "How did you sleep, darling?"

"Not too bad," she said grumpily.

He stroked her. "I didn't sleep too comfortably either." He looked cheerful though. "Is your back hurting you again, Christine?"

She snuggled into him. "Yes. But don't give me a massage just yet. Do it when that man isn't listening."

"I will do anything you ask. You know that." He kissed her indulgently. "Now, it's time to cover you. Unfortunately."

Christine should have known she wouldn't have to dress. With great care Erik did it, lacing, buttoning and straightening. Well, it was nice to be pampered.

Erik was totally fascinated by her. Of course she had known he was going to do this. She was his beloved doll. He had to dress her.

Once he had gotten her outfit perfect, he combed her hair. She sat patiently between his legs. He performed the task lingeringly.

She forgot about her problems. Her excitement faded to a peaceful trance.

There was no way Erik would rush. Once she was all primped and ready he sought to cover himself.

He began casting around for his pants. He bent down, scrabbling around on the floor. Christine sat there, her hands clasped.

She would have helped him. But she was enjoying the view. His dangling scrotum. His large cock. His arse cheeks, nicely spread out, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Christine just stared.

It took Erik time to get dressed. Once he had his suit and hat on they ventured outside.

They slipped through the bushes. Gulzar had found a reasonably secluded spot. All the same, they had to be very cautious.

Erik helped her through the clumps of itching, tickling weeds. They found themselves facing a stream.

Christine sighed with relief. None of them had wanted to go two days in a carriage without washing.

Gingerly she removed her shoes. Erik stood there, guarding her. It seemed silly after all that dressing in the carriage. Shoes, stockings, pants and trousers had to come off.

Christine knew Erik could be very proper in some ways. If she had protested, he would have insisted. They had to come here in their full apparel. She laughed. She could forgive him!

She cautiously took her stockings off. Then her knickers.

She waded into the stream, spreading her skirt.

Erik watched, his arms folded. If anyone came near they would get dealt with!

Christine washed and brushed her teeth. The sloshing water, the sucking mud tickling her toes, and the fresh air… it was all so pleasant. The flurry of the insects, and the faraway chirping of birds, was very entrancing.

She stepped out of the stream. Erik was ready. He kneeled, and began drying her.

Christine flushed. Other than her hands and face, she had only washed her private parts. What else could one do in a stream?

Erik was lovingly drying her. He looked as if he was thoroughly enjoying it.

She looked up into his face. He was very pleased.

"Thank you. You're such a good boy."

Erik turned around. He showed no desire for her to help him. He pulled off his shoes and socks. Then, with a dramatic toss of his head, he pulled his trousers down. And his underpants.

She did not get as good a view as she hoped. But at least she could see his legs.

Erik stepped into the stream. She could see his scant white hair, what was left of it. His rumpled shirt just covering his derriere. His long legs, sunk in the stream from mid-calf.

"Hold on," she said. "I'll wash your back."

Gulzar peered through the trees. He knew he should not do this.

They thought he was attending to the horses. Instead he was giving in to his fascination. He had been forced to listen to them all the way through the journey. Now he would watch what they were doing!

Christine and Erik stood in the stream, giggling. Christine was lifting up Erik's shirt. She had no stockings on. She was lifting up her sodden dress with the other hand.

Christine planted a washcloth in the middle of his back. Its wetness surprised him. He squealed, and turned around.

She rubbed him vigorously. She was leaning into his side. She was gazing at him with the soppiest, most lovesick expression.

Erik looked down at her fondly. Gulzar fumed. There would be nobody to wash him, that was for sure.

"You are a handy little wife, Christine."

"What else is a wife for?"

Gulzar could not stand their whimsical expressions. Christine handed Erik his toothbrush and the jar of toothpaste. Once Erik was done brushing his teeth, Christine began using the brush on him.

She ran the toothbrush up and down the nape of his neck. Erik was leaning over, cupping water in his hands. He smiled quietly.

Christine continued to use the toothbrush. As he was trying to wash his private parts, she seductively brushed up and down his legs.

Erik closed his eyes. Christine ran the brush up and down his back.

Gulzar was waiting for her to run it up and down other parts of his anatomy.

"I wish that Gulzar didn't get in before us," murmured Erik drowsily. "He could have peed in this river."

"Owww!" Christine playfully slapped Erik on the bottom. "He was here before us? Yuck! How horrid!"

They both giggled.

"Can you think of anything more gross?" said Erik.

"Ah, Erik. You peed here too."

Gulzar watched them playfully wrestle each other. Christine was pretending to push Erik over. He saw Erik draw her in close, one hand firm on her torso, the other coming just short of squeezing her throat. Christine's eyes were glazed with pleasure.

Erik held her like that for a second. And then, obviously not meaning it, he let her go.

Gulzar would never have guessed the woman enjoyed things like that. When she had whined in the lair, she must have been dishonest.

So, she liked accepting Erik's authority. She would want to lick his arse. Hypocrite. The little ballet rat had pretended she had dignity. But at the end of the day, she was just a submissive woman.

They ambled onto the bank. Christine swatted at him with the towel. Then he stood still, serene, while she dried him.

It was just Gulzar's luck. He was getting Erik's arse end. He had hoped to see the woman unencumbered. No. What he was seeing was Erik's pathetic skinny arse cheeks.

Christine was moving the towel up Erik's back. That was why Gulzar was forced to see the arse cheeks. She did not seem to think they were pathetic or skinny.

He saw her give one a playful pinch.

And then a grope.

Erik closed his eyes and smiled.

Christine gently pulled his underpants up. She slid on his trousers. Then his shoes and socks. Gulzar watched as she helped him into his coat. Then, finally, his top hat.

She adjusted his collar. Christine smiled at Erik in a way that could only mean one thing.

She thought he looked splendid.

She could never say that. Erik would not think she meant it. He would only get upset. But Gulzar could see it in her eyes. Christine certainly did think he looked splendid.

The two of them strolled over to the carriage. Gulzar supposed he should stop hiding. He would join them for breakfast. And he would pretend, of course, he had simply been attending to the horses.

* * *

Christine sat just inside the carriage. Here, she could still enjoy the sun.

It was all very harmonious here. Dandelions, shiny-leaved trees, and the horses softly cropping the grass.

She hoped their spot wasn't discovered.

For now, one carriage door was open. She soaked up what light and air she could. Erik sat further inside. He had to hide more than her. Gulzar sat outside, on the grass.

Christine knew Erik loved the sunlight too. He had had to hide from it for so many years. But he needed it too. Just as much as everyone else did.

She only hoped they could find a place where he could enjoy it. A house with a walled garden… perhaps…

Why should he have to hide? Why did people have to be so mean? It made her sad. But it seemed like there was not much she could do about it.

She searched through the picnic basket. There were some lovely baked goods here. Erik must have at least a piece of croissant. He was hankering for his usual black coffee. But he would have to wait for that.

She offered him a piece. "You must…" She stroked his cheek. "Eat up!"

He opened his mouth to speak. Christine, deftly, slid it in.

"No!" he choked, giggling. He leaned over, sniggering hysterically. Crumbs went all over his lap. Christine placed them back in his mouth. Erik wriggled as she inserted flakes of pastry between his lips.

Gulzar shook his head. He was fed up.

The last thing he wanted was to watch Erik regurgitating his food. He could not think of anything more gross.

Erik finally did eat some. "Now that wasn't too bad, was it?" said Christine soothingly.

Gulzar did not want to listen to the discourse that followed. Something about how Erik was owed a massage. As Erik and Christine snuggled up in the carriage, Gulzar picked up a few items from the basket.

He went to lie in the grass. His cigars, and his magazine, would keep him company.

* * *

Christine put her hands on Erik's shoulders.

"You will get massaged first," she said, looking at him fondly.

"No. You." He grinned. As he gazed at Christine, he was aware of Gulzar walking away. Erik could see it out of the corner of his eye. All very well for that man. Gulzar took a blanket, and spread it on the tickly grass.

Erik did not feel quite so bitter about Gulzar as he had before.

But why was Gulzar, though, acting as if he was the unfortunate one?

He was the one who got to lie stretched out in the sunlight. He could walk freely around the world.

Erik regretted his own life. His chance of happiness had come. And Gulzar had taken it.

Gulzar had said it was because he was concerned about Christine. That had hurt Erik so very, very deeply.

Didn't Gulzar realize he was concerned about Christine, too?

Erik knew he had to let that go now. Gulzar had returned Christine to him. And he was here, now, helping him.

Maybe Gulzar was his friend after all.

Erik put his arms around Christine. She, of course, was his friend.

He could feel her energy surrounding him. She would not let him down. He and his girl could scratch out a life together.

And maybe, one day, she might even make him feel normal.

"Now, Erik." She kissed him tenderly. "It is your turn."

Erik sighed. He submitted to her ministrations. He laid down, and enjoyed the heavenly feel of her hands on his poor, old, creaking body. Maybe his girl could save him after all.

* * *

Hi. For more POTO-inspired reading, check out my new novel "Heart of a Thespian," published under the name Emma Kathryn. If you enjoy it, let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

Christine closed her eyes. There was a certain momentum in Erik's driving.

At some time during the night they had crossed the Doubs River. Henceforth, they had entered Switzerland.

The carriage was dark and silent. Except for the soft whisper as they glided down the path, and the tread of the horses in the mud.

It had rained overnight. Christine could not imagine what they were going to.

She had tried every position on the seat. But still, her aching back would not subside. She could not fully relax. Especially not with Gulzar opposite her.

When he came inside at night he was exhausted. So, he could just drop off to sleep.

Not her.

She could not trust him.

She yearned for her husband. Erik was guiding the horses with his gentle hands. She imagined her husband sitting up there. As she had left him.

With his top hat pulled down low, and that silly disguise. It was a mask which he was sure made him look normal. But nothing made Erik look normal.

She had to admit it was less conspicuous than his black masks. It was flesh-coloured, and it moulded over a fake nose.

It was the best he could do. But people would still notice his unusual eyes. And his lips, too. He had to eat and speak. So he kept them revealed.

She appreciated Erik trying to fit in. After all, she was scared. What future was there for her, with a husband who looked so ostentatious?

Christine was worried. And she did not want to tell him.

She tried, again, to change her position. She cursed. Christine had not forgotten the swear words she had learned in Paris.

Where would they end up? In a large city? Or a tiny village?

Erik was always very indulgent when they talked about it. He said he would take her anywhere she wanted. But would she truly be happy?

It was about five. Cold was seeping into the carriage. Christine knew, soon, it was time for changeover.

She was feeling cranky. Where was their food? There was not so much of it left.

The pastries were probably stale now. They still had some salami. Christine wanted the salted, boiled eggs. She felt like raiding the basket in front of Gulzar. She felt like picking it up from where it rested under his damn legs.

Oh, when would Erik come?

It seemed she waited too long. Then finally, she heard Erik's whip tap against the front of the carriage.

Gulzar sat up. Christine felt the carriage slow down. She sighed with relief.

The carriage came to a standstill. Muttering, Gulzar slipped out. The world was still inky black outside.

Christine listened, impatient, to the whickering of the horses and the men talking.

She waited at the door.

Finally, she heard her husband's footsteps. She could never mistake them. Not even when they was thudding on the soft earth.

At last he opened the door. He held out his arms. "Erik!" she said.

"Sssh." He held her close. "We will have to go into the woods."

She walked quietly, by his side, towards the trees. She had longed to be with him. She did what was necessary, and then washed best she could in the little stream. Then she guarded him.

Later they walked back, hand in hand.

As he helped her back into the carriage she grumbled. "I wish I could go to a real bathroom."

He laughed. "That's not too far off."

Christine tumbled into the darkness of the carriage. When Erik came up she squeezed him, like a rag doll.

He toyed with her buttons. He undid her dress and corset, and pulled down the tight elastic hems of her petticoats. He rubbed her chafe marks. She sighed as he buried his head between her breasts.

"I like to feel your softness, Christine," he murmured. "I hate it how that underwear makes your breasts feel so hard."

Christine smiled. Erik easily slid her panties down. Then he finally pulled her chemise over her head.

He nuzzled his head against her. He passed a hand round to her naked back.

"Rest," she whispered.

"Christine," he groaned. "Did you know that I used to come and watch you sleep?"

"Yes." She helped him with his coat. Christine did not want Erik to feel uncomfortable.

"Back then," he sighed, "I thought you would never embrace me."

"Oh, Erik. They were hard days."

She undressed him. Although it was cold, they felt a lot better brushed up to each other's skin. Erik pulled the blanket over them. Now they were languidly comfortable.

He did something that surprised her. He picked up the picnic basket. She saw him open it. And he put something in his mouth.

She gasped. "You ate something! I caught you doing it!"

He laughed. "I know I have to be good."

Christine smiled. She nestled into his side.

"Gulzar was hiding the basket under his legs when he was in here," she said, cross.

"I'll punch him. Well, when we arrive in Bern, we will get rid of him."

Christine would be glad when that happened. Gulzar had almost stopped Erik from having a happy ending. And he had almost stopped her from knowing her own heart.

Christine would look forward to getting her privacy back, too. She was so tired of relieving herself and washing with Gulzar knowing it. It would be so nice when it was just she and her husband.

She rubbed Erik comfortingly. He was sorer than her. She was smarting a bit. But he was the one who had been sitting for hours in the driver's seat.

He laid there silently. He twitched occasionally. "Oh, my back," he moaned.

Christine rubbed. His back softened. He curled himself around her, like a little child.

Her movements became rhythmic. Presently, she sensed his mood was changing.

Christine sighed inwardly.

Erik was moving into his aggressive, depressed mood. It struck him at odd times. There was no predicting with him.

His hand began to thump listlessly against the wall.

"Nobody loves me," he murmured.

"I do."

"What do you mean?" he burst out. "You just pretend. You're just sorry for me because I'm an ugly old bastard."

"Oh, Erik." She put her arms around him. "I am your Christine."

Erik bashed his head against the wall. She saw him shake, wave his arms and yell. Christine waited patiently until it was over.

He took her hands in his.

"I'm so sorry my darling." He buried his head, helplessly, in her lap.

Christine stroked him. She comforted him gently.

"I'm a fool. I never do anything right," he murmured. "Only an absolute angel, like you, could put up with me."

"Don't worry. I want you."

"You couldn't stay with me. I am stupid. I will only bring you sorrow."

She smiled. "Then I am a fool too. Because I don't want to leave you. I don't care! I'm bound to you forever."

He grinned. They snuggled together, and rested.

The carriage finally rolled to a stop at midday.

Christine was quite scared.

For two days they had been cut off from the world. Now they were rejoining it, she felt instinctively there would be danger.

She slipped down. Her feet connected with the ground. They were in the stableyard of a hotel in Bern, in the German region of Switzerland.

She moved into Erik, scared.

Erik was deep in conversation with their accomplice.

"I don't know how to thank you, Gulzar."

"Nor I you. You have helped me a lot in our Parisian years."

"Now, you are to put that advertisement in the newspaper," said Erik. There was a certain enjoyment and mischief in his voice. "Make them think I am dead. As for my wife… she eloped."

"With the Vicomte de Chagny."

"And I believe they went to Sweden." Erik grinned, and bowed.

The men shook hands. Christine was relieved to see they were regaining their goodwill.

"I trust you will have a wonderful marriage. And farewell, Mrs Labrosse."

So, Gulzar had remembered that she and Erik did have a surname. Erik did not like to bear it. But he had reclaimed it for her sake.

Her being Mrs Erik, wife of Mr Erik- whose first name was supposedly Erik, as well as his surname- would have been a bit ridiculous.

The truth was, Erik's name was Guilliame Labrosse. That name, however, had been given by parents who had given him nothing but a name. Their cruelty had been mind-blowing.

So to her, and to anyone who would ever befriend them, he was Erik. He was only Guilliame on official documents. Erik was a name he had chosen, and it was a name she loved.

She shook Gulzar's hand. "Thank you for everything."

"Goodbye." Gulzar turned to leave.

They waved. Erik put his arm around her, and squeezed her tight. They watched Gulzar's retreating back.

"Just you and me," Erik whispered. "He shall continue to help us, remotely. He will cover our tracks."

"Are you still friends?"

"It goes back a long way. He'll forgive me for being grumpy these past few days. He knows, now, that what he did was wrong."

Christine huddled into Erik. He brushed her hair back from her forehead.

"He breached my confidence," whispered Erik. "It still hurts. But I think I can forgive him."

He led her through the stableyard. They were both deep in thought. A porter led the way with their luggage.

The porter let them into the imposing establishment. The building, which was five storeys high, was in the neo-baroque style. Gold cornices, sinuous columns and grand archways featured. They climbed a massive flight of stairs.

After getting very stiff from all that travelling, it was not the easiest thing. Christine grumped. Erik solved it. Although he was aching himself, he lifted and carried her.

Finally the porter opened the door of their room. Erik put her down. Her feet felt terribly numb as they hit the ground. The porter dropped their luggage, and left. He closed the door.

Christine looked around vaguely at the pastel fabrics and dainty baroque furniture.

She put her hands over her head.

"Aargh!"

"What's wrong?" asked Erik.

"I'm dying to wash."

"Can't you let me get in there first? You'll take forever! Please… I'm desperate to use the lavatory…"

She laughed. "All right."

Christine laid on the bed. She had bathed.

She was utterly naked, but the room was warm now Erik had stoked the fire. The bed had four shining oak posters. And lilac curtains.

Christine turned over and stretched languidly. She had never been in a room so luxurious.

She had not thought about it much. But her husband was rich. They could have an easy life.

Christine knew children were the main issue to think about.

She wanted them. And she knew Erik was looking forward to it. But she had no women friends to guide her…

Where would she make friends? Christine was not wonderful at speaking German. She just hoped it would work out.

Erik waltzed into the room. She watched him lean over and put on his cashmere robe.

"Our lunch will be here any minute now." He looked wistful. "I'm hungry."

Christine might have rather made love. But she was pleased by what he had to say.

"Erik, what is it… that has made you hungry?"

He smiled. "We are starting anew. Maybe I can let go of my old habits."

She hid behind the curtains when the maid knocked. She was very relieved when she smelt lunch.

Erik duly opened the curtains. He dropped her chemise over her head.

"No. You are not dripping all over your beautiful skin."

"Oh, that's horrid." She giggled. She wondered why he did not say he would lick it off.

He sat down next to her. She was rather surprised when he placed a tray on her lap.

"It's a bit more formal than the carriage," he said.

Christine thought this was so pleasant. So, Erik was getting more casual. He was losing some of his propriety! She grinned.

It was a plentiful meal. Christine was very relieved to eat. After two days picnicking and feeling deprived, she was all too happy to consume älplermagronen. Potato, bacon, leek and onion… with melted cheese and applesauce.

She kept shooting sly glances at Erik. He was sipping the wine they'd had brought up. But- heavens above- yes, he had eaten!

"Did you like it?"

He laughed.

"Yes. I must admit."

Later dessert was brought up. Walnut cake, with coffee, cream and sugar.

It was too delicious.

Soon, after making short work of that, she was fast asleep.

Christine woke.

She was refreshed. Erik, though, still slept.

Their room was well-lit. She got a good view of him. His face flushed and rosy. His naked body curling into the bedclothes.

He laid on his side.

It was very hot in the room. It had not been the time to make love. They'd both been hungry. And Christine would not have spoilt a chance of Erik eating.

Now, he was exhausted. She hoped he would not complain of stomach ache in the morning.

She smiled. It had been so nice, though, to see him guzzling älplermagronen.

Lit by the firelight, and the lamps, her husband's body had a certain beauty. His long neck and gracefully curving back. His sinuous frame, and elegant bone structure. His shapely yet slender legs. The honey-coloured birthmark on his left calf.

She leaned over and stroked his leg. She found him beautiful.

Erik opened his eyes and slowly woke up. In the depths of his golden eyes she saw nothing but tranquility.

"Come here," he breathed. His put his hands around Christine's naked shoulders. He drew her to him rather insistently. Erik was not timid like he had once been.

Christine inhaled his scent. She didn't think it was gross anymore. She just wanted to enter his soul. She wanted to be as close to him as possible, and smell him. Taste him. Partake of him.

His cock was huge. She laid back. He passed his hands over her body, sinking them into her moist, smooth flesh. So unlike his own skin. It was as if he was relishing everything he didn't have.

"Ah, Christine," he sighed. "I have waited so long for us to be like this. Far away from our cares… in a strange land. Starting anew. As if all that pain never happened."

She drew her hands down his back. He sighed. She scrunched his hair. His face fell forward onto her breasts, and then, devoutly, into her lap.

Lingering thoughts of the terrible incidents that had brought them here… and any remaining memories of Raoul… were blotted out.

Her husband's tongue found her. She felt languid. She collapsed, pathetic and jellylike. Her mouth formed into a helpless grin.

She let him please her. Every movement sent her further into delirium. When he was finished Christine did not know how she could ever make love again.

She smiled to herself.

She was now limp, and totally obedient. He had overloaded her senses. She did not know when she had been so sated.

Her thoughts could only be tenderness and warmth. For this kind man. And how extraordinarily he had pleased her.

His hand came to her back. It moved firmly down, then up to her neck. For a moment he stroked her gently down to her thighs. Then he tipped her over with a remarkable, firm insistence.

"Come here."

Her legs embraced him. He was remarkably virile and confident. His lovemaking was absolutely relentless.

Christine loved his energy. She laid there helpless.

Eventually he leaned down and kissed her forehead. Christine was bathed in sweat, and various other fluids. She wondered how he could ever do better.

"Love me?"

"I'd run round the world for you, Erik. I adore you."

"Am I beautiful?"

Christine kissed his brow tenderly, and stroked his face.

"Yes."

He smiled. He laid next to her.

"So I'm no longer that ugly man you felt sorry for."

"It was never like that. I wanted to enter you. Pass through you. Merge with you."

"Really?"

"I'd never leave you, Erik. I never could."

He finally relaxed. He rested his head on her breasts. She sorted through his hair.

"Will you do something for me then?" he asked.

Christine knew what he meant. She positioned herself so her face was level with his bellybutton.

She tickled his tummy. She brought her hands down his sides, and into his groin. He sighed.

She took his massive organ in her mouth. She lovingly stroked the soft skin underneath, between his legs. She could hear him getting excited. It was in his helpless, aimless whimpering.

She ran her finger all along his perineum. And into his arse, to excite him. Seed surged through his cock, palpable under her lips.

It gushed from him. She let it come into her mouth. She could hear his heart touching sighs as he grasped at her hair, moaning.

Afterwards they laid close. The warmth between each other was profound.

She passed her hand across his face.

She was finding him beautiful. Those deep eye sockets. That gap of space where a nose should have been. His thin lips. And the way he pulsed with sexual energy when she held him.

"Did I please you?" he asked.

"I worship you." She kissed those gentle, deprived lips. She had not thought she could be so happy.

"Is there anything I could do?" he asked.

"Not much," she said. "Why don't we live quietly? Tending a garden, raising crops from the earth. Watching the sun set over the mountains. Walking in the park, perhaps with little ones. Like the sound of that?"

"A wonderful plan, Christine." He grinned happily. "I think we shall."


End file.
